


A Close-Knit Christmas

by FireDancer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anatomically correct sweaters, Bruce is smarter than everyone else, Excessively competitive superheroes, Fluff, Gen, Knitting misadventures, M/M, Thor doesn't know his own strength, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Ugly Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireDancer/pseuds/FireDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As with most things that the Avengers end up taking very seriously, it started off with most of them not wanting to have anything to do with it. </p><p>(Or: What happens when Bruce decides the Avengers need to learn how to knit.)..</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Close-Knit Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> A very heartfelt thank you to my betas (OrderlyChaos, Keantha, Trasgapoca, and Brit) particularly OrderlyChaos for the title! (You don't want to know the alternative, it was even more punnishing.)
> 
> Also many MANY thanks goes to FeelsChat, especially the Frogg, for helping me come up with the plot idea. I couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> FeelsTide Prompt: 53 "Someone knits horrible sweaters for everyone."

As with most things that the Avengers end up taking very seriously, it started off with most of them not wanting to have anything to do with it. It was Bruce’s idea, so naturally he endorsed it, but science buddy or not, Tony complained; and when that didn’t work he tried persuasion, bribery, threats, and whining until his last resort was just ignoring it. It would have worked out pretty well for him, except that Thor thought the whole thing was a great idea and had no compunctions about picking Tony up and carrying him through the Tower, cheerfully ignoring the expensive sneakers bouncing off his shins as Tony tried to get free.

The rest of them went more quietly - dubious about knitting as a form of team building or not, Steve had agreed that they needed to do more things together, which meant that Coulson supported it, which meant that Clint and Natasha knew better than to ditch. The first few sessions had been disasters, but at some point (and Clint would forever deny that it was his idea) the plan was hatched that they all make sweaters for another member of the team for Christmas. Naturally things got… competitive from then on out, and when he wasn’t trying to corner Bruce for a private knitting lesson himself, Clint was amusing himself by making jokes about the Hunger Games and secret training sessions.

From an outside perspective it was a little ridiculous how secretive they’d all gotten about their projects, but when you were trying to hide something from the guy who owned the building you lived in and had an all-knowing AI on his side, a Russian spy, or the secret agent you happened to be sleeping with, extreme measures had to be taken. Bruce, in a show of sanity, had declared himself exempt from the exchange so the numbers evened out, while Phil and Clint were knitting for one another, Steve and Thor (who were the only ones who knew anything about knitting) were exchanging sweaters, and Natasha and Tony ended up stuck with each other.

The weeks leading up to Christmas were rife with furtive sneaking about the Tower; everyone clutching their knitting bags protectively to their chests when they dared to bring them out of their knitting sanctuaries (except Natasha, because there was no way in hell Tony was stupid enough to try and peek into any of her possessions and they all knew it) and frantically whispered conversations with Bruce, who was deeply amused by the whole situation.

When Christmas morning finally rolled around Bruce was the only one who looked well rested. Clint hadn’t slept in days trying to get Phil’s sweater finished, Tony’s hands looked like he’d suffered a tragic porcupine accident, Steve was wearing a rueful expression, Natasha looked smug and triumphant, Phil’s fingers were tapping silently against the box he was holding and Thor… Well Thor looked as cheerful and eager to start the day as he always did - probably because he’d discovered that the plate of cookies he’d left out for Santa had been eaten. (Clint had been hungry, he wasn’t going to apologize. And anyway, the look on the big guy’s face was awesome.)

For a moment they all just stared at each other, and then Steve cleared his throat, and handed a large squashy package over to Thor, “Alright, I guess I’ll start, Merry Christmas Thor.”

Beaming, Thor made short work of the paper and pulled the sweater on immediately, holding his arms out to show it off in all of its mismatched glory, “A handsome gift from a fellow warrior! I shall treasure it always.”

Looking relieved, Steve rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly, “I’m glad you like it. Sorry about the colors, I underestimated how much yarn I’d need and the batches ended up different colors.”

Thor looked like he was wearing Frankenstein’s sweater, with at least three different colors of blue and grey, but at least he was happy with it. The rest of them really weren’t much better.

Thor’s effort was all the same color, a really unflattering green with red sequins, but it was hard and lumpy with knots where he’d pulled too hard on the yarn and ripped it. (He sheepishly explained that Midgardian yarn was paltry stuff compared to Asgardian wool and he often forgot himself in his enthusiasm for the task.)

The sweater Tony had made Natasha was made of a truly gorgeous yarn, a lovely cream color and soft as silk, but when she held it up the front… sagged. She shot Tony a murderous glare and he held up his hands defensively, “I made it to your exact proportions! There was math involved! You know how hard it was to make room for your… Right, coffee anyone? I really feel the need for coffee…”

He got up to make a run for it, but Natasha said sweetly, “You haven’t opened yours yet…”

Eyeing the neatly wrapped box she’d given him, Tony asked warily, “Jarvis, is this thing going to explode, or otherwise cause me injury when I open it?”

“You should not suffer any physical harm, sir,” Jarvis answered dryly, which didn’t seem to inspire a lot of confidence in Tony, but he opened it anyway.

Natasha didn’t let up with her sweet smile and ‘gentle’ suggestions until Tony was wearing the sweater, which was bright primary green except for the Christmas tree neatly knitted on the front. The true master stroke, however, was the star on top of the tree, which Natasha had knitted using a loose stitch so that it rested right over Tony’s chest and the arc reactor shone through it. He opened his mouth to complain but Natasha cast a pointed look at her anatomically correct sweater and he ended up clearing his throat instead, “Okay, so we’re even. What about Robin Hood and his not-so-merry man over there? Let’s see the goods gentlemen.”

“You couldn’t handle a look at my goods,” Clint answered, really hoping that no one pushed because he didn’t want everyone else around when he gave Phil his gift.

Tony started to open his mouth, but Bruce diverted his attention by starting to hand out the sweaters that he’d made everyone and Clint gave him a grateful look, which Bruce returned with an understanding little smile. Soon the living room was filled with the sounds of conversation and presents being opened and Clint took the opportunity to grab Phil and sneak out with him.

Once they were in the study, Clint pulled his knitting bag out of the nook he’d stashed it in and opened his mouth, but Phil beat him to it, handing him the box he’d been holding onto all morning. “Here, open mine first.”

Taking a moment to run his fingers over the paper, enjoying the anticipation, Clint gave in to temptation a second later and pulled off the neatly wrapped paper and opened the box. The sweater was Clint’s favorite royal purple color, and as soft as anything he’d ever owned. It was also full of dropped stitches and had arms of two different lengths.

Clint instantly loved it with a passion he normally reserved for his bow.

Stripping off his sweatshirt, he pulled it on and grinned down at it, stroking the soft, bumpy plains before pushing up the extra-long sleeve so he could cup Phil’s face in his hands and kiss him, “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

“It looks like a twelve year old made it,” Phil answered dryly, wrapping his arms around Clint’s waist, “I’m glad you like it anyway.”

“I love it,” Clint assured him, kissing him again before pulling away to get his bag carefully handing Phil the contents, “Um… I’m not done. I tried, but I wanted it to be perfect and I kept messing up and having to start over…”

Carefully spreading the half-finished sweater out on a nearby table, Phil brushed his fingers over the pale blue yarn and smiled, “It looks great so far. As good as anything Bruce made.”

“I’ve been getting his help a lot,” Clint admitted, encouraged by Phil’s response.

Looking up, Phil met his eyes, “Is this what you’ve been doing the last week?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working pretty hard on it, trying to get it done for today. Sorry it’s not.”

Smiling warmly, Phil shook his head and pulled Clint into another kiss, “There’s no rush. We’ve got the rest of our lives.”


End file.
